Snippets from Westeros
by Rumaan
Summary: A series of Drabbles, some serious, some fluffy. Mainly revolving around the Starks.
1. In the Shadow of the Moon

**Author's Note: _On her second wedding night, Jeyne can't help but remember what she's lost._**

**A new departure for me but I have become overwhelmed with too many A Song of Ice and Fire feels to keep ignoring the calls to write fanfiction for it.**

**Many thanks to MiHnn for looking over this for me and encouraging me to publish it. I also blame her for encouraging me to write ASOIAF fanfiction - go and check out her stories as she's a fantastic writer for many different fandoms.**

**Also SPaG are not my strong point, so please excuse any mistakes in this drabble.**

**Warning: This drabble contains dubious consent issues around marital sex that would be deemed as rape in the judiciary system of many countries.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not GRRM and write this purely as a hobby and not for any profit. This disclaimer is valid for everything I post in this piece.**

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**In the Shadow of the Moon**

No matter how hard she screwed her eyes shut and tried to pretend the hot hands that pawed her body were his, she couldn't. Her memories wouldn't allow her. She couldn't defile what they'd had with this… this passionless, horrible coupling. There were no sweet murmurs in her ear just animalistic grunts that turned her blood cold. She turned her head to the side and gazed out the window. The full moon shone in, lighting the bed chamber with a silvery, grey light, reminiscent of the cloak she'd been given during her first marriage. It was almost as if the moon was mocking her, reminding her of what she'd once had.

Finally, the oaf groaned and rolled off her. She refused to look at him. This minor Lannister bannerman who'd been coerced by her mother and the Kingslayer into marrying her. She wouldn't call him her husband. That was reserved for the man who still carried her heart. The man she'd never see again and whose image was slowly fading from her mind.

The loud, drunken snores told her that he was sated and asleep. He hadn't noticed or cared that she lain there as still as a statue, stiff and wooden. The coupling had hurt but she'd refused to give him the satisfaction of wincing. She'd endured, turning inwards, relying on her memories to ignore what was happening. It was a habit she'd become used to in the last two years. She was a disgrace, something to be hidden away in some little rural keep so her family and her so-called liegemen could forget she existed.

Far away, she thought she heard the howl of a wolf.

The tears slipped silently down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow and Jeyne whispered a word that was almost a broken sigh.

"Robb!"


	2. Stark Sleeping Habits

**Author's Note : _How the Stark siblings sleep viewed by their other halves._**

**Blame this drabble on an intense desire to be asleep during a nighttime feed. In my sleepy state I imagined how the different Stark children would sleep.**

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**Stark Sleeping Habits**

Robb sprawls, conquering the bed as if it is a hostile land. It drives Jeyne crazy as she always ends up at the edge, trying not to fall off.

Sansa sleeps as prettily as she chirps. It amuses Sandor that her manners are so ingrained she doesn't even drop them whilst unconscious.

Gendry has learnt not to touch Arya – not unless he wants a bloody nose. She likes her space, her own pillow and don't even think of hogging the blankets.

Bran sleeps with his eyes open. Meera has woken up too many times to count to find his unfocused eyes fixed on her. It used to scare her but now she smiles.

Rickon fights the blankets as if they have caused him personal offence. Lyanna has woken up one too many times hot and sweaty from where he's piled them on top of her.

Jon likes to snuggle. Ygritte had never seen him as the type but his solemn demeanour hides an affectionate side that came out whilst he slept.


	3. Happy Nameday, little brother

**Author's Note: A slightly-longish-5+1-drabble I came up with after reading lots of brother-bonding Robb/Jon fics.**

**The five times Robb said "Happy nameday, little brother" to Jon and the one time Jon said it to Robb.**

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**Happy Nameday, little brother**

I

Jon's nameday was never anything big. Not like Robb's the moon before was. But with Father away fighting in the Iron Isles, no one had remembered and Jon's bottom lip wobbled as he sat sadly on his bed. A big fuss had been made of Robb turning five, but all Jon had received was a rap on his knuckles from Maester Luwin for getting his sums wrong. There was a giggle outside his chamber door before it was kicked open and Robb burst in, with Sansa toddling behind him. She was leaning up, trying to grab one of the lemon cakes Robb was precariously carrying.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Robb said triumphantly.

II

Jon stared enviously at the blunted steel blade Robb had received for his eighth nameday. He'd let Jon hold it and even practice with it before Lady Stark had caught them. Jon had hoped that Father would get him the same for his nameday but he had not.

"Come with me," Robb called, once practice was over.

They ran into the Godswood where they found their father, cleaning Ice as usual. There by his feet lay a bundle and Jon's heart began to race. Father picked it up with a smile and handed it over to Robb, who ceremoniously presented it to Jon. He peeled back the skins and gasped as he looked on the blunted blade, exactly like Robb's.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Robb said cheerfully.

III

Jon smiled as Robb blindfolded him and led him blindly around the castle. He was turning ten today and he was keen to know what Robb had planned. Last moon, for his tenth nameday, Robb had had a large feast to mark the importance of his age being counted into double figures. No such event happened for Jon, Lady Stark would not allow it, but Jon felt the love of his family when Robb removed his blindfold and a small feast was laid out on the trestle table in the kitchens, his siblings all smiling at him. Robb pushed him down in the big chair at the head of the table.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Robb said happily.

IV

Robb tried to stifle the chuckle as he stole into Jon's bedchambers late that night. They were twelve now and thought themselves men. For his nameday the moon before, Greyjoy had snuck Robb out to the tavern in Winter Town where Robb had gotten truly drunk. Jon had heard Robb try to persuade Greyjoy to do the same for his nameday, but the Ironborn had refused, saying Jon was only a bastard. He had tried not to let the slight hurt him but it had stung. But as he observed the flush on his brother's cheeks, Jon had to smile. A wineskin was pressed into his hand as Robb clambered up onto the bed.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Robb said merrily.

V

Jon fingered the silver direwolf clasp in his hands and looked at Robb. "But I cannot have this, I am not a Stark."

His brother scoffed. "You're as Stark as the rest of us, no matter what your surname is. And when I'm Lord of Winterfell, I'll petition the king to legitimise you."

Jon pushed the burning feeling in his chest down and willed himself not to cry. Robb always seemed to know what he wanted and to truly belong to this family was what he desired more than anything. The silver direwolf cloak clasp, the exact same replica of the House Stark sigil that Robb currently wore, having received it for his fourteenth nameday a moon ago, was proof of this.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Robb said proudly, as he pressed into Jon's hand.

+ 1

Jon had never wanted this. To be the sole remainder of his family. The only Stark in Winterfell. The bastard turned Lord Stark who had been legitimised by his dead brother.

He led the procession down into the crypt, the torches burning brightly, illuminating all those who had gone before him.

Once the internment was complete, only Jon remained down there. He stroked the stone effigy of his brother, frozen forever at the age of seventeen and a tear slipped down his cheek. He felt all his years at three-and-twenty and did not look forward to gaining yet another year in a moon's time. But at least he had achieved this. Had finally brought his brother home, reuniting him with the rest of his family.

"Happy nameday, little brother," Jon said sadly.

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**AN: And yes, Robb technically is still older, just dead, but in Jon's mind he'll forever be the 14 year old boy he said goodbye to at Winterfell before going to the wall.**


End file.
